


Sands of Vulcan

by sunshine (sunshinepiveh)



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M, but characters who die canonically still may die, kirk and spock live, tagged as no major character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2021-01-23 16:34:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21323260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshinepiveh/pseuds/sunshine
Summary: The combination of the black hole placed in Vulcan by Nero and the use of a transporter transports Spock and Kirk back into the time of Ancient Vulcan.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock
Comments: 8
Kudos: 81





	Sands of Vulcan

**Author's Note:**

> This story was first published in the KiSCon 2019 zine.  
This story was beta'd by: AJC

The distress call from Vulcan came on the day that James Kirk took the Kobayashi Maru test an unprecidented third time. It was then day when many of my foundational beliefs would be shaken. My beliefs about my duties as a Vulcan, my duty to Starfleet, and about one brash young man who I grew to respect. But before I give my account in full of the events as they took place, I should give some context.

~~~

My name is S'chn T'gai Spock, and I am a citizen of Vulcan-that-was, and a member of the Federation's Starfleet. I have long admired Starfleet. Even before I gave serious consideration to embracing my human heritage and joining their ranks, I thought their history of scientific study, intergalactic diplomacy, and exploration to be laudable. Given the bigotry made evident to me in the Vulcan Science Academy, joining Starfleet was a natural choice for my career.

It was at Starfleet Academy that I first met James Kirk. Perhaps I should explain first that I had been employed by the Academy for several years by that point, primarily as a Vulcan language instructor, but also in the development of the program that served as the test called the Kobayashi Maru. The point of said test was to place the command-track student in a no-win scenario, in order that they might experience fear and in so doing, still make the correct decision for the well being of their crew. Such a scenario is one that all Starfleet captains might eventually face, and James T. Kirk, being a student in the command track was no exception. What made him exceptional was that he cheated.

~~~

I was in the observation room for the test that day, along with several other Starfleet officials. I was not in the habit of observing test takers but James Kirk had elected for some unknown reason to take the test a third time. While taking the test an unlimited number of times was permitted, taking the test a second time was almost unheard of, as all students understood that the test was not a winnable confrontation. But this student, this James Kirk, wanted to take the test that I had programmed a third time. That in and of itself was noteworthy. I am not ashamed to say I was surprised to find he did not seem to be taking it seriously.

_"Yeah, don't worry about it,"_ Kirk answered his crew-mate lackadaisically.

I blinked as I tried to process the meaning of his attitude.

"Did he just say don't worry about it?" one of the instructors in the observation room asked.

I looked on , stymied by the level of casual disregard Kirk displayed as my well scripted program came crashing down around me. The shields were not up. How had he done it? While a faint annoyance pricked at the back of my consciousness, I recall that I felt mostly curiosity toward the cadet, however inappropriate his attitude and however morally deficient his actions. 

"How the hell did  that kid beat your test?" one of my superiors demanded of me, his brow creased in obvious consternation.

"I do not know," was all I could answer, as I mulled over the myriad possibilities for hacking into the system. It was only later when I filed my complaint of Kirk's actions -- a mere formality -- that I realized I did also feel annoyance at the cadet. Not that he had beaten me; his intelligence was laudable. But much like the Vulcan Science Academy, I realized, the morally deficient were everywhere, and there was to be no bastion of moral integrity to be found anywhere in the galaxy.

~~~

Not only did Kirk disrespect the moral code upon which Starfleet Academy was founded, but he failed more importantly to discern the meaning of the test. Such a mistake in a command-track student should at the very least disqualify them from the desired position. I would have thought no more of the matter for any other student. But it had been made clear to me who exactly Cadet Kirk was -- the son of George Kirk, after whom the Kobayashi Maru was named. That James could fail to comprehend the  valor of his own father's sacrifice  stunned me. As much friction as  lies between my own father and myself, I have never failed to comprehend the social risk he took in marrying my mother, nor do I lack a proper respect for the man's myriad accomplishments. Respect for one's ancestors who have come before is at the heart of Vulcan, and I had assumed human culture. 

In light of the disrespect teenage humans regularly display to their parents perhaps it may seem my viewpoint is egregiously naive. But never had I seen such lack of regard for an undeniable hero. I found myself baffled by James Kirk's motivations -- why even join Starfleet in light of such a world view? Meditation on the matter would have to wait.

There was a distress call from Vulcan.

~~~

My primary thoughts were on my duties as a Starfleet officer; where to go, crew assignments, protocols and procedures. I was well trained, and knew my responsibilities well. But I have found I am capable of carrying multiple threads of thought at once, and I did not try to curb my speculation as to what was happening on my home planet. A natural disaster seemed most likely, though to have no early warning of such an event in this era was astonishing. Attack by an alien nation seemed equally unlikely given the current political climate. I struggled to calculate the probabilities as I boarded, while a third thread in my mind spun out: when had I last spoken with my mother? What was the last news I had read of my  home world ? How disconnected had I allowed myself to become? These thoughts, proving unhelpful, were suppressed.

~~~

When Kirk burst onto the bridge my incredulity and annoyance echoed that of Captain Pike as he demanded answers for the interruption. A spacial anomaly resembling a lightning storm was both natural disaster and scientific curiosity, but was not the attack the suspended cadet accused it of. At first all I could think was that he was wasting my time. My homeland, my mother, was under threat, and this morally deficient miscreant had forced his way aboard the  _Enterprise_ , and he was wasting everyone's time.

Loathe as I was to listen to his words, I will admit now as I have indicated before: the miscreant was intelligent. His intelligence, from what I had seen thus far, was unmatched among his peers. The creeping realization that he was correct -- that Vulcan was under Romulan attack -- sunk into my skin  and chilled me to the bone. 

This  was not a rescue mission. This was a battleground.

_~~~_

_Surak save us_ , was my first thought when we pulled out of warp. In my years of experience with Starfleet, nothing had prepared me for the chaos that assaulted us as we entered  the battleground. The debris I could see through the view screen alone was enough to nearly overwhelm my cognitive processes. 

The shields were up. Information was being relayed at a rapid rate. I was the First Officer of the  _Enterprise_ but I felt like a cadet as I suppressed my physiological response to the best of my ability and tried to concentrate. Klaxons wailed, the red light of red alert bathed the bridge in the colors of my sun, and I struggled to see Vulcan through the attack. The ship shuddered and I braced for another hit. The turbulence far exceeded that of any  spacial anomaly I had encountered. I was unprepared for battle.

T he Romulan ship, when it emerged on the viewscreen, was a monolith, unlike any vessel I had seen before, and from the radio silence and volume of debris, it seemed we were the only survivors meant to confront it. Damage reports washed over me as  the Romulans locked their  torpedoes , and I clung to the directions given me by my commanding officer.

H e was not to lead me for much longer. In spite of my objections, Commander Pike had abandoned us all, and left me in charge of the disaster.  Not only that, but Kirk had gone from academic probation to First Officer. Later, when there was time, I would question my entire understanding of the command structure of Starfleet. As it was, it was the least of my problems.

No help was to come from Starfleet Command, given the interference in our communications equipment. At least Pike had directed me in this. Kirk and two others were to destroy the equipment the Romulans were using to interfere with our communications and transporters. From there, Starfleet Command could tell me what to do, or I was to retreat. So armed with these directives, I thought I might survive my first act of captaincy, but I was yet anxious to find out what that drill was doing to my planet. When Ensign Chekov informed me of the singularity, the entire axis of my responsibilities shifted in an instant.

M y first responsibility to an entire people, of any species, that were about to face such devastation, was to try and get word to them in time. To communicate the immediate evacuation of the planet, in spite of the battle ground. To save what I could. And to preserve what I could of the heart of the Vulcan culture. I will admit that even under the best of circumstances, it would be impossible for me to separate my objective duties with those personal bonds I felt with Vulcan kind, as well as those even closer attachments to my family. My duty, I was lucky to find, could serve all three, as I made my desperate voyage to the katric ark, to evacuate the Vulcan High Council.

I would like to believe I was thinking as clearly as possible in those final frantic moments, when time was of the essence, and we teetered on the brink of such devastation I could barely comprehend. But I cannot say for certain. My ancestral bonds were humming with anxious energy not my own, and my personal knowledge of the truth of the situation filled me with a blind panic I was challenged to suppress, even on a physiological level. I required clear thinking, but I stood to benefit from the burst of adrenaline. And driving these careful calculations was the pressing need to  _go, go, go_ .

I cleared Kirk and the other one from the transporter pad, only vaguely noting their success. It did not matter. Not yet. Everything was secondary to my mission.

~~~

The ground was heaving, and the air was afire. This area of Vulcan had once been home to me, and I was shocked to see it so transformed. Through the chaos I knew was no earthquake, I located the ark and strained myself to reach it in time. I was aware of the wrenching and screaming of bonds, and I dared not acknowledge the pain or its cause, not with so much at stake, and so little time.

My father in front. The Vulcan Council, dropping like flies. My mother. My mother. The ground heaved. Mother.

I do not recall thinking as I leapt into the void, my hand straining to reach her. I recall mostly the look in her eyes, of wordless desperation. Behind me, there was screaming. Then the blinding shimmer of the transporter.

~~~

I stood in shock, staring out at the sands of Vulcan that stretched before me. I was on Mount Seleya, the katric ark at my back, and Eridani beat down upon me. All was stillness and silence, but for the wind in the mountains and the gentle scratching of blown sand. My mind was locked on the visage of my mother, falling. The pain of severance of so many ancestral bonds still ached, like a deep, raw wound inside of me, yet it also felt muted in some way I could not describe, even to myself.

What had happened? Where was the  _Enterprise_ ? Where was the maniac Nero? Where was the chaos I had seen around me, only moments before?

I looked out across the desert. Where was ShiKahr? I should have been able to see the capit a l city from where I stood, as I had seen it many times before. The tall spires of buildings were gone. My mind went to the earthquake, the destruction raised by Nero, but the land was flat and unblemished. I couldn't make sense of it, and for a moment I worried I had suffered some sort of mental break.

A scattering of rocks behind me caught my attention, and as I turned I saw that infuriating cadet, now my  f irst  o fficer. "Kirk," I said flatly. "What are you doing here?"

"What am I  doing here?" he asked. Kirk wiped the grime from his face with the edge of his uniform but it didn't help. He looked bewildered and breathless, and more than a little annoyed. "What the hell were you thinking transporting down to the surface on your own?" he shouted. "I followed you, not that you noticed." He glowered and looked around us, brow furrowed. "Where the hell are we?" he demanded, as if I should know.

I was the captain. It was my job to know. And I was Vulcan. "We appear to be on Vulcan," I answered him, because I was fairly certain of that. Mount Seleya rose at our backs, though I could no longer see the ornate carvings of the entrance to the katric ark, though I thought I could see an indication of an entrance to a cave. I squinted through the midday sun at the landscape down below, but still saw no indications of civilization.

"Then where is everybody?" Kirk demanded as he carefully lowered himself down the uneven terrain. "Where's the Romulan ship?"

"I do not know," I admitted. I pressed my combadge. "Spock to  _Enterprise_ ," I tried, and was met with silence. " _Enterprise_ , do you read me?" Behind my shoulder I heard Kirk doing the same, and suppressed my irritation. It was only logical that we both make the attempt, in case one of our badges had been damaged.

"Nothing," Kirk stated the obvious.

"So it would seem," I agreed. My thinking felt sluggish, as I struggled to process this turn of events. Where were we, and what were my duties now? I'd been the First Officer of the  _Enterprise_ , and my duty was to Starfleet, and my captain. I was on a rescue mission to Vulcan.

The rescue mission had become a battleground. I was Captain of the  _Enterprise_ . I had responsibilities to my crew. To Starfleet. To my people.

Vulcan was about to be destroyed, an immovable and incomprehensible fact. My duty was to my people. To my family.

Now what? I dwelled on that question for an inordinate amount of time, though from an outside perspective it was for only moments. I started up Mount Seleya once more, making toward what used to be the entrance to the katric ark.

"Hey!" Kirk shouted, scrambling over the rough terrain after me, puffing with exertion. His human physiology was ill suited to the increased gravity and  the  Vulcan sun, especially in the heat of the day, and he clearly was unused to such terrain. "Where are you going?" he demanded.

I am not proud that I wanted to abandon him, rather than be saddled with the responsibility for his welfare. He was brash and irksome, and his disadvantages would burden us both. But he was my  f irst  o fficer, and even basic decency demanded that I help him. My investigation of the ark would serve dual purpose. "We should get to that cave," I said, pointing, and Kirk squinted up at the mountain, eyes slit against the sun. He roughly wiped sweat from his brow. "It will offer shelter from the elements and from there we can plan our next move," I explained, uncertain whether Kirk yet realized that the cave was not as it had been.

"Right," he mumbled. "Good idea."

Step by painstaking step, we made our way up.

~~~

There was nothing of the Hall of Ancient Thought. The cave was only a cave. Kirk sat against the cool stone, sweating and puffing, as I made my examination. The walls were slick in the back. That was good. We would need the water. Kirk perhaps more than me. By now, I had shifted gears into a desert survival scenario, and I reviewed my Starfleet training alongside the experience of my  _kahs-wan_ . They were very different training scenarios, and I would have to strike a balance between both if we were both to survive. And then... what? I had the uncanny suspicion, however improbable, that we had somehow journeyed into Vulcan's past. Already I was forming hypotheses on how the event might have occurred, but survival would come before explanation.

In Starfleet, all cadets who plan to embark on exploratory missions, or missions involving desert planets, are required to go through two weeks of desert training. Even having come from a desert planet myself I had been required to participate, in order that I might learn the Starfleet specific protocols for such a desert survival scenario. The main thrust of the exercise was to wait. A human being could not survive in the extreme heat of the desert for long without supplies. Given a lack of supplies, the best course of action was to conserve both supplies and energy, and await a rescue from some other contingent of Starfleet that would recognize a lack of check-in and send a rescue party in response.

On Vulcan, a child's  _kahs-wan_ or coming of age was very different. At the age of  eight, I had spent ten days in the heat of Vulcan's Forge, very close to where we were now,  practicing survival. But a child in his  _kahs-wan_ was not meant merely to wait for rescue, he was meant to practice the skills of his ancestors that they might not be lost. I could navigate by sun and stars. I could find shelter, food, and water. I knew which animals to avoid, and which to eat, though my people preferred to keep a vegetarian diet outside of the  _kahs-wan_ , or other times where meat was needed for survival. Were I alone in the desert sands of Vulcan's distant past, it was possible I could maintain myself indefinitely, though not in any comfort. But Kirk would need more water, perhaps different food. He would need less heat, and more rest, and could contribute less than I could in terms of energy. The weight of our long term survival began to settle within me.

"So did we time travel or what?" Kirk interrupted my thoughts, cutting straight to the point.

I hadn't realized he'd worked it out himself, though I should not have been surprised. His intelligence was one of his key qualities, alongside his grating personality. "That is my current hypothesis," I agreed.

"Huh," Kirk said, taking that in and seeming to mull it over. "So how do we get back?"

Getting back had hardly occurred to me, and I shared with Kirk my thoughts on the matter. "With no understanding of how or why the event took place, and without any modern technology at our convenience, I do not believe it is possible for us to return to our own timeline under our own power."

"What?" Kirk asked as he sat up against the wall a little straighter, clearly looking for an argument but still too exhausted to do more than prop himself up. "I am  _not_ staying on ancient Vulcan the rest of my life," he said resolutely. "You can't expect us to stay here," he went on, as if the decision were within my power. "Spock. We've got to get some supplies and then figure out how to get out of here."

" I do not believe we have much choice," I answered him.

"Like hell!" Kirk argued. "You just want to stay here because it's better than the alternative," he said viciously. I blinked at him, and felt a pain in my side at the reminder of what was to become of my planet. I did not believe I had envisioned remaining on Vulcan because of avoidance of that terrible fate, but the  reminder stung nonetheless.

"Spock," Kirk said more softly,  but I had had enough of his illogical refutation of reality. I made my way to the entrance of the cave, leaving him behind in the cool safety of the shelter. He shouted after me, but though the Vulcan sun was hot, I needed some space. I needed to meditate. Far too much had happened, and too much was yet to come.

~~~

My uniform was designed with a temperate climate in mind, or the standard environmental settings of a Starfleet vessel. I wanted a robe, the traditional dress of my people, and I was concerned how I would acquire one long term. My clothing was too warm and too skin tight, but I was loathe to try and fashion something else out of it, lest I only make it less effective clothing without solving my problem. In ancient times, the robes would have been woven from the hair of a _sehlat_, and we hardly had the time or apparatus to find such an animal, tame it, grow food for it and feed it, shear it, spin its fur, fashion a loom, weave it, and so many other steps involved in the making of cloth. A tribal community would be able to offer such technology, but finding one could be difficult and perilous. In fact, I was more concerned about the possibility of a tribe finding us. My people would not yet have embraced Surak, and what I knew of Vulcan history was savage and brutal. Outsiders were unlikely to be welcomed, and Kirk's alien appearance and poor constitution would not serve us well in making the attempt. Perhaps I could brush off my modern Vulcan dialect as having come from another tribe, from some distant part of the planet, but even my own narrow understanding of our history gave me real concern at my ability to fake fitting in, even if Kirk were not an issue.

The hot wind blew sand in my face as I sat on the flat stone in deep thought, and my second eyelids shuttered my eyes against the grains of sand and glare of the sun without my conscious volition. It had been some time since I had had to recall the lessons of my _kahs-wan_, and now I was grateful for the training, though I had been ambivalent at the time.

"There you are," Kirk said, settling himself down beside me on the rock. I suppressed a sigh. After an hour in meditation, I felt more settled, though no more clear about our path. And I still had not dared touch my grief and confusion over Nero. I did not know how to fit the loss of my planet and family in with the existence of the planet now. I glanced over and saw that Kirk was less flushed than before, and that he'd stripped his  undershirt to wear atop his head. It was wise, though not as affective as a robe. I pushed the thought aside, as I could not change it.

Kirk blew out a long breath. "So what's next?" he asked me. "I'm thinking water."

"The walls of the cavern toward the back are moist."

"Well that's awkward as fuck," Kirk said dryly. "There's not even a trickle there. We'll have to lick the walls or try and soak a cloth in and suck on that."

"Without proper equipment, I see little alternative."

"What about the cacti?" Kirk asked.

I knew to what he was referring. In Starfleet training, they explain that water can be acquired through many earth cacti. It was not quite so simple here. "There is a variety of succulent from which we might acquire moisture," I explained to him. "Though I have seen none here. That," I pointed, "will not suffice, and dealing with the fine spines can prove dangerous. And that," here I pointed to another plant in the distance, "I do not recognize at all. While I have studied some of the flora and fauna of my planet's past, there is certain to be large variety with which I am unfamiliar."

"Right," Kirk answered, deflating. He drummed his fingers with nervous energy. "So. Cave water. Is there anything to eat?" he asked next.

" I am uncertain about the small lizards and arthropods I have spotted in the last hour," I confessed. "I could hunt for larger game at night, though it would prove dangerous.  But the meat of a  _ le-matya _ would feed us for several days, and could be dried in the sun. I am loathe to use my phaser too frequently, but until we can find wood or bone, it will be difficult to fashion a weapon. Until we find wood or dung, it will be difficult to build a fire."

"I thought Vulcan didn't have wood," Kirk remarked.

"It does not have much," I said, and left it at that. We could both see far from our perch atop the mountain, and there was no evidence of trees. They would be few, and near the coast, another thought that plagued my mind.

"Okay. So we've covered water, food, shelter, and clothing. Tell me what to do and I'll help you with the food source tonight."

I glanced at him, and confirmed what I thought I'd seen before. "You've lost your phaser. You would only prove a hazard. I will go."

"Spock. I'm not letting you go out into the dark and dangerous desert alone at night. I'll at least keep watch or something. Provide a distraction. Throw a rock at it."

"I would not recommend that. _Le__-__matya's _are fast and have excellent night vision. I'll warm one of the rocks in the cave for your heat and hunt alone."

"Spock -"

"I am the captain!" I interrupted. I was embarrassed to display such emotion but I was irritated in having such a basic plan questioned.

Kirk threw up his hands in  acquiescence , though I doubted that would be the end of the discussion. "So we wait," Kirk said.

"That is Starfleet protocol," I agreed.

"But?" Kirk asked, sensing I had not shared my full thoughts on the matter.

"There is no reason to anticipate rescue," I explained again. "We must consider our options long term. We have no supplies, nor the security of a community. Mount Seleya affords us shelter and some food, but Lake Yuron would provide water, a more temperate climate, better conditions for agriculture, and perhaps community."

"You think there are others living there, that could help us."

I hesitated. "Perhaps," I said, though I did not yet share my concern that such a community would be far more likely to harm us than help us. However, we faced the same possibility on the mountain. We would not be the only people to seek such an obvious cave as shelter or a source of water. Wherever we went, the presence of others would be a constant concern.

"So you think we should go to this Lake Yuron."

"It is a consideration," I corrected, for I had decided nothing.

"Where is it?" Kirk asked, squinting at the horizon and peering around.

I pointed. "The large open expanse at the base of Seleya is Vulcan's Forge," I explained. "We would have to cross the Forge, to the valley that runs between those two mountains there. That is where ShiKahr used to lie. Lake Yuron is on the far end of Shi K ahr."

Kirk blinked. "Shi K ahr. That's the capit a l isn't it? Do you think anyone's living there now?"

"I am uncertain," I admitted. "Without more evidence, I find it difficult to speculate how far into the past we have been thrown, if indeed that is what has occurred to us at all. In addition, my knowledge of Vulcan's past is broad and shallow. My focus has always been on the sciences, not anthropology." I felt deficient in admitting as much, but there had never been need for me to study my planet's history in such depth. Some ancient peoples had once lived in the area now known as ShiKahr, this I knew. But when? And how many? I struggled to recall whether I'd ever even learned that information at all.

"How long would it take to get to Lake Yuron and check the place out?"

"I believe I could make the journey in three," I told him, already calculating the distances and imagining survival scenarios.

Kirk grunted. "And what about with me along?"

"You would not go," I clarified. "You would need to remain behind, at least at first, as we have no vessels with which to carry water. As a Vulcan, I could go without for some time."

"Like hell you're going alone," Kirk argued. "I think we should stay here."

"I have not yet decided."

"Well I've decided. We're staying here."

"You are not the captain," I argued back.

"Look around, Spock! There's no  _Enterprise_ out here. You're no longer the captain."

"Starfleet protocol suggests --"

"Starfleet protocol my ass! We shouldn't leave the place of the incident anyhow. We don't know if that would affect rescue."

"Why do you insist upon illogically clinging to the idea of a rescue?" I demanded, my tenuous patience at its end.

" Because I don't believe in no win scenarios!" Kirk shot back. "I thought I made that perfectly clear at my hearing, or have you forgotten that conveniently?" he asked with irritation. I had not known that he was harboring resentment for his disciplinary hearing, although I was aware that he did not believe in a no win scenario. It was evident in his every action, and I could not decide whether his determination was laudible or folly.

"Besides," Kirk went on, "w hy the hell do you think we wouldn't be rescued?" he asked . "We've been here less than a day. Christ. At least give them time to figure out what happened to us. Think about it from their perspective."

"The members of the  _Enterprise _ are in a battle zone, against an alien hostile. The planet of Vulcan is imploding upon itself. Immediate evacuation is required or all will be destroyed," I recited woodenly. "There will be no time for rescue, nor speculation as to our whereabouts. The next in command will assume control of the  _Enterprise _ and they will contact Starfleet Command."

"You really are a glass half empty kind of guy."

"I am a realist. We are here now.  _Kaiidth_ . We must do what we can with what is."

~~~

I was injured, but not badly. I had strained something in my right side, and something in my left knee in my pursuit of the_ le__-__matya_, and I'd sustained several bruises and scrapes from the necessity of leaping rock to rock in the black of night. Kirk was unhappy at my state but the _le__-__matya_ was dead and Kirk had stayed in the cave. After two days of only our meagre water supply, we were glad of the meat, but our one phaser was running low on charge and we huddled together for warmth as we preserved it. Once I could fashion weapons out of the bones of the _le__-__matya_, we might risk using the phaser on the rocks one more night, but until we could secure wood there would be no fire.

Without the light of a fire, my small wounds and the gutting of the _le__-__matya_ would wait until dawn. I left the meat in the cool desert air and tried to gather what rest I could, as preparing the carcass was a gruesome process and we had no water or sonics with which to wash.

At the first glimmers of dawn, I arose and made my way to the mouth of the cave. Kirk was close behind me. I had thought to allow him to rest, but the rock was uncomfortable and the air was still chill from the desert night. We could see our breath as we chafed our hands and got out our little utility knives, not ideal for gutting an animal as large as a small cow, but they would have to do.

At least Kirk was familiar with the process, as he'd no doubt been instructed on the basics in his field training, though it was clear to me he had little experience as he heaved and gagged several times. The waste products I threw far out on the rocks for the other creatures to consume, or for the sun to bake into dust with time. The blood  we strove to collect in a depression in the rocks, though whether or not we could bake it into a cake by sun without it spoiling was an experiment yet to try. The organs and muscle likewise were prepared as best we could, laying some out to bake in the heat of day, while other pieces we packed behind rocks in the back of our cave to attempt to keep cool, uncertain which strategy would be more beneficial. A fire would be ideal, but we still of course lacked in wood. Then, while our meat was still unspoiled, we consumed a good portion of it raw, for we were in need of nutrients and it would take days for the meat to dry into a jerky. Even then, whatever parasites the meat contained might remain. I was confident in my Vulcan constitution and having had some exposure to the microbiome of my home world, but I worried for what the food might do to Kirk.

My worries were well founded judging by the sounds of Kirk's toilet behind some rocks, an hour later. He lost a good deal of water in the process, and seemed weak, though there was no point in either of us mentioning the incident, as there was nothing that could be done. As time ticked by, my determination to set out for Lake Yuron only increased. In spite of Kirk's objections, I decided to set out in two more days. By then I would have had time to fashion some tools out of the bones of the _le__-__matya_, and Kirk would have the dried skin to use for warmth.

~~~

"I'm coming with you."

It was the same argument as before. "You're weak," I told him. "You should stay in the cave."

"And what, you'll bring back wood? What good is that if you have to be gone six days at a time to get it? We need a better location."

"We don't yet have a way to transport the water."

"Wrong," he argued back. "I've been thinking about that. We can form water skins from the skin of the le matya, and waterproof the seams with glue made of sinew."

"We'd need a fire to make the glue," I argued, though I was reluctantly impressed that he had considered the water skins. I had considered it myself for the trip to Lake Yuron; going without water for three days was not ideal. But the amount of work and time needed to fashion the skins seemed an unnecessary expense when I could set out immediately and make it to the lake sooner.

"We can make a fire. I think," he said. "If we can find flint in the cave or surrounding area, we can use it with our knives with the _le__-__matya's_ hair for tinder. It's light and it won't burn long bit it should work, and if we have long enough we can throw some of the meat on the coals too to try and preserve it."

Kirk was right of course, and his intelligence continued to impress me, though it annoyed me in this circumstance as well. I did not relish the idea of trying to get Kirk across The Forge alive. It was daunting enough a task for a Vulcan. But I ceded to the logic of his suggestion, knowing that if I did not he'd continue with his plan anyway, and follow me. Alone on The Forge he would be vulnerable, and I could admit  that  as annoying as I found him, I was reluctant to lose Kirk. I was reluctant even to abandon him for the better part of a week, lest something happen to him while he was alone. So we set about his plan, instead of my own. In two more days, we would attempt to cross The Forge.

~~~

The Forge is hot. By Vulcan standards it is hot. The sun beats down upon it relentlessly, and it is not close enough to any mountains or hills to provide shade. The earth is cracked from the arid air and the ground scoured smooth in places from the constant scratch of wind blown sand. The dust on the wind and the oppressive heat make it difficult to breathe. The lack of large rocks or vegetation by which one might take some meagre shelter make the entire experience brutal. Were I alone, I would attempt to cross The Forge in a day, pressing through dangerously high heat during the day and the exposure to predators at night in order to make the valley as quickly as possible, where I could rest and recuperate myself.

W ith Kirk, expediency was not possible. Crossing The Forge took us two and a half painstaking days. We travelled at dawn and dusk and through the chill and darkness of night, as Kirk gripped my arm for support and guidance. The heat of the day was brutal on him, even lying still under partial cover of the  _le-matya_ hide. I was certain he was suffering from heat exhaustion, but the only way out was through.

"You said three days," Kirk said breathlessly as we finally made it to the shelter of a mountain, one of the two that framed ShiKahr. He leaned against the hot rock, sitting in the dirt as he caught his breath and wiped more sweat from his brow. I was glad he was sweating. It meant he wasn't dangerously dehydrated yet.

"That was assuming I went on my own and crossed The Forge in one," I corrected.

"Fuck," he muttered with a tired grimace. I scanned the mountains more closely, worried about the pockmarks and holes I saw high up. They might be only natural caverns, but I had my suspicions that someone lived there, that they might have seen us coming for days, could see us now. The valley of ShiKahr was wide enough to hold a city, but it was narrow enough to make me uneasy at the prospect of tribal peoples surrounding us while there. I debated over the merits of walking the valley toward the middle. There would be less shelter. We would be exposed. But up against the mountainside, we'd have little  warning of attack, and no chance of defending ourselves. Then again, we would have more potential places in which to hide, and by the flush to Kirk's skin I doubted whether he could handle more exposure to the sun.

"Why the fuck did I think this was a good idea again?" Kirk asked. I had no idea whether he meant it rhetorically. "We should have just stayed in the cave and lived off of _le__-__matyas_."

I had considered that possibility myself, given how much difficulty Kirk had had with The Forge. The possibility of returning to Mount Seleya seemed remote at the moment. The sun was steadily creeping overhead as the morning cool waned, but I wanted to make some progress in the valley before our rest.

"We should keep going," I said as I scanned the holes high in the mountainside.

"Spock , it's the middle of the day," Kirk complained, and seemed disinclined to rise. Perhaps he could not. I debated once more the wisdom in leaving him behind, in a sheltered place, to finish out my  reconnaissance alone. "We'll go again at dusk. Just... sit down, would you? Meditate or  s omething. You're making me nervous."

"You would be wise to be nervous," I told him as I continued to gaze up and around us. "I am concerned we may be watched."

"What?" Kirk asked, blinking alertness through the fog of his exhaustion. He looked around, evidently trying to see whatever it was I could see. "Where?" he asked seriously, his hand reaching to grasp the short bone spear he had strapped to his belt.

"I am uncertain," I confessed. "Perhaps it is simple fancy, but something about the nature of the caverns on these mountainsides has made me uneasy. These mountains may very well be inhabited."

Kirk sat up and observed the mountainside with new eyes. "What do you want to do?" he asked me. I was a little surprised he'd ask, considering how  belligerent he was at other times.

"We go forward," I said. "We should stick to our plan." Changing plans continually in a survival scenario I knew was madness. A sound mind was more important than a sound body, and it was all too easy to reconsider and diverge from the plan again and again.

Kirk nodded, accepting my direction. "Okay," he agreed. "And we stick to the shade, travel mostly at night," he said. "I need to ration my sweat or this is going to be a really short trip. I've already lost too much in The Forge, even only travelling at night."

"Agreed."

"Until then, what? Keep alert? Hope for the best?" he asked, fingering his spear nervously. I knew it would be useless to him if he faced even one Vulcan. It was more suited for use against arachnids and small reptiles than for combat.

"We keep alert," I agreed, and settled in to wait for evening. I would not waste my efforts on hope.

~~~

Crossing ShiKahr was relatively easy after The Forge. We still travelled in the dark of night. I still feared  _le-matyas _ and  _sehlats_ , and even more than those large predators was wary of snakes and arachnids whose venom could be deadly, and who were small enough to be missed. I was never more thankful for my Starfleet issued boots ; though I missed my ancestral robes, I could do without ancestral sandals.

I kept an eye to the hills as often as I was awake, and I did without sleep as long as possible. It was not wise, perhaps, to stress my already fatigued body, but it seemed unwise to risk myself to attack. I never saw a flicker of movement, or light or smoke from a fire, but the pattern of the mountainside gave me chills I was unable to explain.

On our fourth night, we reached the end of the valley, and we continued on into our fifth day to reach the lake. The sun was high but Kirk was delirious with excitement as we approached the water.

The air was moist and fresh, and the lakeside dense with  _g'teth_ bushes. Their berries were out of season, but the sight of so much wood dizzied me. Even in my childhood treks to Lake Yuron, I had never seen  _g'teth_ so abundant. There was less dust in the air, and the ground was soft with coarse desert grasses. Kirk raced ahead of me through a break in the brush, laughing as he waded into the lake  fully clothed.

"Please tell me we can drink this," he begged, already washing the grime off his face and hands, basking in the relative cool of the waters. I allowed myself a small smile as well, grateful for the life giving water of the lake.

"We can drink it," I confirmed. It would be safest, we both knew, to boil the water first, but without a pot to boil it in, the fresh water would do. I knelt by the shore and washed my own hands and face, and drank deeply to replenish myself. It was while I stared off at the distant shore that I felt the chills return up my spine. There was a settlement there, among the hills, and there could be no mistaking it. Perhaps we were safe, as no one had yet confronted us. My desire to leave, to hide, warred with my longing for the safety of a community. Without knowing how we would be received, I could not decide which route to take, but I pointed out the settlement to Kirk, who eyed it speculatively as he came free of the lake, undressing and wringing out his clothing to dry.

I regarded him carefully as he sat next to me on the lake shore. He looked to be much revived, though his  color was high. I could not tell for certain how much of that was the unavoidable burn of the sun on his pale flesh and how much of the red came from the unnatural flush of heat exhaustion. In The Forge, I had  harbored real concerns for Kirk's constitution, but in the refreshing cool of the lakeside I was somewhat reassured at his continued survival. As annoying as I found the human, I had grown accustomed to him . I had worked dilligently to preserve his fragile health, and found I had no desire to do otherwise. It was a shame that we could not linger too long at the lake, I thought, lest we be discovered.

"They probably have food," Kirk said as he stared out at the distant settlement and licked at chapped lips. Our own meagre supply of meat that we'd brought along was diminished. We'd had to leave the bulk of it in  our cave on  Seleya, and even if we should return to our mountain home, we might find it spoiled and need to begin again.

Even from this distance, I could see the settlement had agriculture. There were pens of  _quattil_ , and rows of growing flatroot. The cavern entrances were covered with various skins and I saw flickers of movement in doorways and windows, though few would be out in the heat of the day.

"They most certainly have food," I agreed. "However, my ancestors did not often take kindly to strangers, who would have been from rival tribes. These people might kill us before we have the chance to explain ourselves, and at any rate I am uncertain how I would explain your looks or either of our clothing and tools."

"I was afraid you might say that," Kirk said, staring off toward the settlement longingly. "So what do we do? Fill up the water skins, grab as much of the brushwood as we can carry, and retreat back into ShiKahr tonight? Head back to Seleya?"

"We may not have the opportunity," I said, and I watched as several Vulcan men came out of the hut, gesticulating to each other and across the water toward our location. Though we were still and crouched in the brush, they had evidently seen us, and were likely to investigate.

"Shit," Kirk said as he grabbed for his wet clothes and began hurriedly dressing. I wished he had not waded into the water in his shoes, but any blisters he received as a result would be his own fault. I scanned the environment for a suitable hiding place, and considered heading back toward the ShiKahr valley. It would take the Yuron villagers time to skirt the perimeter of the lake and by the time they arrived perhaps we could be on our way.

We made a hasty retreat back toward the valley, as the midday sun beat down upon us. Travelling in the heat of day seemed a reasonable sacrifice in order to reach the cool shores of Lake Yuron, but retreating in haste through the Vulcan sun was less than ideal. I was concerned for Kirk's health but I suppressed my concern, and focused instead on scanning the  cliff side for  a place  where  we might conceal ourselves .

No sooner had I spotted a suitable cavern than a strange Vulcan face appeared in the hollow. Mumbled speech echoed against the rocks, and Vulcan warriors poured out of the cliff side toward us from above and ahead. I began to question my decision to retreat, and thought I would have preferred to take my chances with the Lake Yuron residents than the warriors of ancient ShiKahr.

"Son of a bitch," Kirk said, grasping his spear as we paused, frozen in the open expanse of the valley, uncertain which way to run. I glanced back the way we had come, toward the oasis of the lake, but the ShiKahr warriors had closed in and were shouting  at us, their speech rapid and aggressive.  Had we survived so long, and come so far to the life giving shores of the lake, only to die?  "Spock?" Kirk asked nervously. "What the hell do we do now? What're they saying?"

I clenched my teeth to bite back my retort, as it would serve no one, and concentrated my effort in deciphering the foreign dialect of ancient Golic. My Golic was clunky at best and this dialect was new to me, but I could make out the basics, and raised my hands in supplication.

"Drop your weapon," I told Kirk hastily. He looked at me incredulously, but undoubtedly saw the futility in retaining the short spear under the circumstances, and dropped it.

I  still  had my phaser, strapped to my uniform, but it was low on charge and there were at least twenty men surrounding us, not to mention those I could not see. Though I held no hope of rescue from Starfleet, I could not help but think of the Prime Directive. What would happen if these warriors captured us ? What would they make of such advanced technology? How might my presence here alter the flow of time? My mind flashed to the certain destruction of my planet, though I tried not to think of it, or what my presence here might mean for its survival or destruction.

I dared not use my phaser to defend myself, and hoped only that it would not be confiscated from me. As I stood before these warriors, I  realized that  the phaser  was not the only technology which might alter the flow of time. O ur steel knives and even the  zipper fastenings on our clothing would contaminate any ancient peoples that were exposed. We had failed to think our journey through, so desperate were we for a better source of water, for wood to make a fire, our survival instinct outweighing all else.

Weapons of all sorts were pointed at us, and the warriors encroached steadily upon us.  One of the tribesmen demanded my identification. I gave him my name, but was forced to invent a tribe.  He wanted to know where they were. Why had he not heard of them, seen them? Why would I have left them? Should I lie and say they would come for me? I lied instead  saying that they were dead. Where had we come from? I told him the north. It is said a Vulcan cannot lie. I assure you, we can, and I did so in blind desperation. All the while Kirk kept asking me what was happening, what was being said, but I could not answer him. It took all of my concentration to comprehend the tribesman and to make myself understood.

I n all the natural disasters I had witnessed, I had never dreaded one in the way that I dreaded being killed that day by my own ancestors. It seemed a unique abomination, a refutation of the teachings of Surak though I knew that Surak had not yet come. My blood was about to be spilled on the sands of Vulcan,  almost certainly, though death would be preferable to them disbelieving my story and forcing a meld.

Who was the man beside me, they asked. Why did he look deformed? Our peculiar clothing was ignored for now, perhaps because it was assumed to have come from the northern tribe, from which I'd said I'd  descended.

Kirk was from my tribe, I lied. His physiology was merely a mutation.

They'd seen how slowly Kirk had run, could see now how he sweat, and panted for his air. Could see the unnatural red undertone of his heat-blotched skin. Why had he not been drowned at birth, they demanded. Why saddle myself with him even now, as he was weak?

I did the only thing I could think of. I claimed him as my property. Kirk could not hunt nor could he bear children. He was almost useless to an ancient tribe. But I knew that they kept slaves for pleasure. Would they see Kirk as deformed or exotic? Would they believe him to be my petty indulgence?

I was not to find out, at least not now. The warriors exchanged words between themselves rapidly, more rapidly than I was able to follow. Someone was to be told... something. It was impossible for me to follow.

"Spock!" Kirk whispered frantically. "What the hell's going on?"

"I do not know," I answered honestly, still straining to make it out, and unwilling to risk movement as we were carefully watched. I considered explaining my claim of ownership to Kirk, but could only imagine his incendiary response, which I could not risk were the lie to hold. I would explain later, should we survive.

There was some sort of yelling coming from the direction of the lake, and a new clan burst forth from the brush and rocks. The two clans sized each other up, and if I'd thought the ShiKahrans were irate at us, it was nothing to their hostility toward the Yurons for their interruption. We had trespassed on the lake, the Yurons said. There was some dispute about territory, and some words exchanged about who we were, where we had come from. The ShiKahrans had been tracking us for some time. That did not surprise me. The Yurons said they had forfeited claim to the foreigners when we'd left ShiKahr territory.

The ShiKahrans responded in kind, saying we were no longer in the domain of the lake. This apparently was also up for debate. In the confusion, I sought desperately for a means of escape, to utilize the distraction, and I saw Kirk scanning the hills, likely thinking the same. But there was nowhere to go, nor sufficient weapon at our disposal. The valley was an open expanse, and there was no sure escape in the rocks of the mountain, could we even hope to reach them without detection.

I  wondered whether it would be logical even to hope for one side of the debate to win over the other. The Yurons likely had better resources than the ShiKahrans, but whether either party was likely to allow us to live was unknown.

A shout went up, and before I knew it, a spear was thrown, from one side or the other. I flinched as absolute chaos broke out. My ancestors were violent. This I knew. It was something else entirely to witness the speed at which a battle took place, there on the sands with only a moment's provocation. And over what? The right to two prisoners, worth almost nothing at all.

Kirk did not hesitate to grasp his spear again from the ground. I had no time to wonder whether it was the correct decision, but grasped my phaser and fired above, toward the area of the cliff side that looked most precarious.

The air was thick with shouts and weapons, flying at heads and vulnerable skin. "Spock!" Kirk shouted, leaping toward me as I leapt for him.

I saw green blood spilled on the red sands and heard the deafening roar of rocks, collapsing down the mountainside. I grasped Kirk's arm, and heaved us to the side, as fast as my straining muscles would allow, faster even than Kirk was able to keep up as I dragged him.

I heard the echoing shouts of my kindred in the valley and huddled against the heaving cliff as rocks fell. The ground was moving. And the noonday sun, bright overhead, shimmered in the chaos. Blindingly bright. The glimmer of a transporter.

~~~

The  _Enterprise _ coalesced around me, and I saw again the falling face of  M other, my arm outstretched before me as Kirk grasped the other behind. Around us on the platform, the survivors of the Vulcan Council, my father among them, but  M other gone. My mind reeled. The warriors. Ancient Vulcan's past. The  _Enterprise_ . Nero.

Kirk was up and moving even as I collapsed. I was aware he was speaking to the others, giving orders rapidly as my mind reeled. What had happened?

"How did you find us?" I asked, dazedly.

"Sir?" Chekov asked uncertainly.

"We were..." I blinked, shaking my head. "You didn't know?"

"We almost lost you, Captain," he said, "when the ground collapsed, and you fell toward the singularity. Not all of the Council made it. I am sorry, Sir."

They didn't know. They didn't know that we had been lost, for days and not moments. That we had seen the history of my planet, that now collapsed into itself, folding away for all eternity. The bonds that had dulled flared back to life, then excruciatingly severed, nearly all of them. I put a hand to my temple and closed my eyes.


End file.
